Touched by an Angel
by IDontKnow1-9
Summary: Inspired by the promo of 9x18 "Meta-Fiction", what I thought would and should have happened in the episode. Lots and lots more Destiel. That's what I am saying... No subtext, literal text. Rated M just in case.


**Was inspired by the promo, and after seeing tonight's episode how I wished it actually went. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do I really own anything?**

Touched by an Angel:

"I'm so glad you decided to pop in Castiel!"

A short man with a scraggy beard and frizzy hair sits at a desk, a type writer set up before him, with half of the paper filled with a nonsensical story. Other knickknacks line the dark mahogany, and the desk is only one section of this messily collected room. Different items and artifacts line shelves, occupy space, taking up any available area in the room. The man in his chair seems at home in the chaos that is his office.

"I mean, I was about to be hit with writer's block and then, whammo! You show up! And you can be of great help, too! I'll tell you an idea, and you can either nod your head yes or no, and I'll ignore your input and just go ahead! Does that sound good?"

The man he is talking to is tied to a chair, the rope anointed in holy oil. Enochian sigils have been carved into the wood of the chair, rendering him powerless. His mouth has been duct-taped shut. His blue eyes squint in anger, and his head shakes to convey how he doesn't like what the monster known as Metatron is planning on doing.

"Glad to see we're on the same page," Metatron says with a mocking smirk. He begins clacking away on the keys of the old machine. "How does this sound: 'As the angel sat there, basking in the glory of his captor, he realized how hopeless his situation really was. His human charge had been defeated and made a lesson to those who wish to defy X, and his brother has once again become the great X's servant's vessel. His only choice now was to give his undying allegiance to the all-powerful Go-'"

"Mmggmmmph!" Castiel interrupts, his head shaking frantically, eyes filled with cold, blue fury.

Metatron gets up from his desk. "I thought I told you only to NOD!" A resounding smack echoes across the room. Castiel's face grows a red welt from where skin hit skin. Metatron is shaking his hand out, to numb the kickback he got from hitting him. "Now I don't like to be the badguy, Castiel. Why must you insist on making me the bad guy?" Metatron gets into his face. "Make this easier for me. For you. For all of us!"

The penetrating gaze cuts straight through Castiel, stares right into his grace. His blue eyes widen, his mouth tightening within its confines. He's so tired. Can he really keep on fighting? He was taken from his angels, those who follow him now dead. It's a habit he hasn't been able to shake. And then he was taken from his friends, separated in the maze Metatron calls a lair. He can only guess at what Sam and Dean are doing now. For all he knows they could be dead. Dean could be…

Castiel bends his head, tears starting to prick at his eyes. Maybe he should just join Metatron and his crusade. He hasn't been able to muster up the strength he has in the past: when he was fresh-faced and innocent. But the horrors of war have calloused him to the world.

He looks up, back into the seemingly swirling eyes of Metatron, considering his offer. Metatron's voice rings in his mind: '_Join me Castiel. Together we can remake Heaven. Remake the Earth.'_ The offer seems tempting, and he can't help but consider.

Metatron can see the conflict in Castiel's eyes and can't help but smirk to himself. His new powers as God allow him to do great things: one power being that of coercion. He knows he will win the battle of wills. He can see his influence in Castiel's eyes. They are taking on a darker shade. And soon, when Castiel gives up, he will have full control.

'_Just give in. Become an apostle of X,'_ the voice says. Castiel can't find any argument against the voice. He should just follow Metatron. X. His life is meaningless already: it's chaos, utter turmoil. He has nothing waiting for him. His eyes are cloudy, half-lidded. The tears have stopped pooling in his eyes. He looks at Metatron.

"So what is your answer Castiel? Will you join me?"

Castiel hears the question, but it sounds like it's being blocked by tons of water. His head is unfocused, and his vision dizzy. Yet his head still starts to shake-

_BOOM!_

Metatron whips his head to the side while Castiel does it slowly, like his head is full of cement. He can barely make out a figure in the bright door-light. He recognizes that silhouette. He's seen it many times before, whether staring at it awake or sneaking glimpses in his dreams. Castiel is able to focus more, as Metatron has moved farther away, his influence getting weaker. He's sobering up, and after a couple of seconds Castiel can finally distinguish his savior:

Dean.

Castiel's eyes soften. The man he gripped tight and raised from perdition has come to save him from this hellhole. He's covered in blood, most of it not his own, and his shirt has been ripped along the right sleeve, revealing his entire arm. In his right hand he sees a weird, bone blade. It looks familiar… When he looks into Dean's eyes to express his gratitude, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the unfamiliar coldness and brutality. It's like all humanity has been zapped from his body. He stands rigid, with a severity and bloodlust like no monster he's ever seen. It's then that he notices the pulsing red mark on his forearm.

'_Oh no…_'

"Stay back Dean! I'm… I'm warning you!" Metatron is getting desperate now. He sees the man with the cold, dead eyes and red mark advancing towards him. Metatron has seen that look before. And usually someone ends up dead. His eyes flit back and forth, and he remembers how he has leverage. He pounces for the angel blade on his desk and holds it close to Castiel's neck. "If you come any closer Dean, I'm going to slit his throat. I did it once! I can do it again!"

Dean slows, recognition flashing in his eyes, but soon that fades and he continues his warpath. Metatron's hands are shaking, and the blade is already starting to slice at Castiel's unprotected neck with the jerky movements. Tiny droplets of blood ooze down his taut neck and start to stain his already dirty shirt. Castiel hides the pain with confusion within his eyes, yet Metatron's emit nothing but fear.

"Coward," is all that Dean says, advancing towards his prey like the mighty hunter he is. Shadows fall on his face, making the once handsome hunter look terrifying, and for the first time Castiel has ever been in the presence of his human, he is scared. He is scared of the man he has given everything for.

Dean swings with the blade, but Metatron leaps out of the way, barely making it out with his life. "I didn't write this," he says, "I am out of here!" With the flutter of wings, the "God" leaves with his tail between his legs. The swipe meant for Metatron also barely misses Castiel, but it also frees him of the bonds. Which is good, as Dean keeps swinging away with his weapon.

"Dean!" Castiel shouts, trying to get through to the man inside the machine. He knows what is happening to Dean. The "Mark of Cain" is a great evil, a great temptation, and now it has Dean in its thrall. "I know you are in there Dean! Fight it!"

_Whack!_

With Dean's other fist, he sends Castiel spiraling into a stack of books, knocking the pile over and leaving him bloodied and bruised. His nose is spurting blood, and his body is blackened and blued, but he can't stop. Dean is in too deep and he needs to throw a life supporter before he drowns in the Mark's influence. He tries to stand, his knees weak from the sudden blow and the fight before.

"Dean," he whimpers, "it's me. Cas. Listen to my voice."

A swipe with the blade hits Castiel in his shoulders, and the crunch of bone on bone is enough to bring him to his knees. A torrent of blood flows from the wound, and Castiel's vision starts to blur. His mind races back to a while back, to a similar situation.

Dean is in his position, and Castiel can see him bloodied and broken, on the verge of death. His mind was in a prison as his body was stuck in autopilot, controlled by the cursed Naomi. The gleaming silver of the angel blade shines in the shadow of the abandoned building. Dean is looking up at him with sad eyes. He cannot believe that his angel could be doing this. Castiel could not believe it either. The blade rises, gets ready for the blow. But Dean grabs his arm, says something, and then he remembers breaking the control.

The blood-stained bone sword is raised above Dean's head. A droplet of blood falling onto his head, barely even fazing the lost soul. His green eyes, usually so full of emotion and thoughts, stare at Castiel like he isn't even there. Castiel knows what he needs to do.

With the last dregs of strength, he lifts his hands to grip the one hand free of the weapon. "Dean…" he whispers. He tries to remember what Dean said to him to break the spell. '_I_…' it was something important. Something that struck him in his heart that sent a jolt through his entire system, causing his hand to go limp and his brain to regain control.

The blade starts to swing down.

There is no more time to think, only to act, and Castiel says the first thing that comes out of his mind, his heart:

"I love you!"

The blade pauses mid-air, inches from Castiel's mop of black hair. Castiel reopens his eyes, and looks up at his attacker. Dean's head is bent to the side, eyes lightening, humanity returning slowly. Castiel knew he must have said something right.

He pulls himself up on weak knees, looking like the fawn trying to walk. He supports himself on Dean's shoulders. "Dean Winchester, I have loved you from the moment I saw your soul in Hell. I do not think I realized what it was until a while ago, but it is love nonetheless. I do not want anything to happen to you, because if I were to lose you… I would lose myself. I have existed for countless eons, just floating, and it wasn't until I met you that I knew how to truly be. You are like the taste of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so human, so normal, yet beautiful. You may be underappreciated at times but you will know when it is missing. And if you were to go away, in any shape, in any form, I would know. Even now, you are not yourself. So please Dean, fight this. Fight the monster eating away at your humanity. Return to me. I would like to be able to act on my feelings with the real Dean Winchester."

Dean's eyes stay focused on Castiel's blue eyes, pooled with tears. Tiny streaks of salty water fall onto his cheeks, mixing with the blood smeared there. With the last of his energy, Castiel throws his arms against Dean, falling against him in love and exhaustion. Dean just stands there, arms slack, barely holding onto the blade. Castiel's arms start to slacken, his vision finally succumbing to the darkness threatening its borders. He starts to fall.

The bone clatters to the ground before Castiel does.

Dean lowers himself down along with Castiel, holding his unconscious angel in his arms lovingly. He rests Castiel's head against his shoulder, and tightens his grip on his savior yet again.

That is when he realizes he is crying. He sniffles, letting the tears run freely down his face, soaking up the situation. He almost killed Castiel. The angel he has loved for the longest time. He almost destroyed his only friend, his lifeline to a happy relationship, if he ever worked up the nerve to ask him. But… he doesn't need to anymore does he. He smiles at the peaceful face Castiel makes in his rest, happy that one of them finally admitted to their profound bond. With a slight kiss of the forehead, he picks Castiel up and starts to leave the room.

"I love you too, Cas…"

* * *

He's in the shower now, letting the hot water wash away the sick, twisted things he did under the Blade's influence. The bodies. The blood. The innocent slaughtering. Even in the boiling temperature he shivers. His skin is scrubbed raw.

'_And Castiel almost became one of those bodies, didn't he_.'

He can't even picture what would happen if he killed Castiel. Dean would probably end up like the demons he and his brother fought on a daily basis. In the rush of the shower water, his tears blend in perfectly. The sad thing is he can see the prone figure of his love, lying there, dead by his hands. It wouldn't be the first time he's killed someone he loved.

Thing is, he didn't even have the Blade in the first place. It was supposed to be a simple mission: get in, capture Metatron, rob him of his grace, kill him, save Heaven. From the information Gadreel gave them, it would seem like the fortress was not as impenetrable as Metatron like to think. Fucking Gadreel, should have known he'd be loyal until his dying breath. He seemed to have a sick satisfaction when Sam plunged that angel blade straight into his heart, killing the angel and the vessel.

They stormed his compound, and got separated soon enough. Sam went one way, Cas another, and Dean somewhere in between. It was a swirl. Memories, fears, and hopes floated through the halls and forced him in a mix of directions. The worst was when he walked into a room and on the wall, written in blood was a message:

_I have your angel._

_ Kisses, X._

He never saw fury like he did before. His vision went red, and his arm started to hurt. He clawed at the burn, trying to quell whatever was trying to force its way to the front. Then the strangest thing happened. In his hand, the First Blade was gripped tightly. It couldn't be! Crowley was supposed to have kept this thing locked up tight, and yet here it was, in the bone, in his hands. The dread coiled in his stomach as the familiar sensation he experienced when he first held the blade rose from the darkest depths of the pits he forced them into. Dean was controlled by the fury, the need to strike down whoever dared harm the ones he loved.

And he almost ended up becoming that.

Luckily after Metatron fled and Dean recovered from the dizzying effects of the blade, he found Sam. The Blade was gone, back to wherever it was before he summoned it. Yet the trio was back together again, even if they were a little worse for wear. They drove back to the Bunker, Sam at the wheel and Dean in the back with Castiel, tending to his wounds. His healing powers have somehow slowed, and his near-human form seemed fragile in the moonlight.

He turns the dial on the showerhead, figuring he's spent enough time in the shower. The hot water caused the mirror to fog up. He wraps the towel loosely around his waist, and goes to swipe at the mirror, and soon he can see his reflection.

The man in the mirror looks tired: weighted down by the problems he seems to be suffering. His once bright, emerald eyes look nauseating in the fluorescent lighting. The bags under these eyes are dark and heavy like his soul. Freckles seem to stick out on his pale skin. He is nothing like he was in his youth. Dean closes his eyes with a sigh, crumbling under the current state he is in.

"I think you're beautiful Dean."

Dean opens his eyes to see Castiel staring at his reflection. Dean talks to the mirror: "Shouldn't you be resting."

"I am better, Dean. But the real question is, are you?"

"Peachy, Cas," Dean huffs with fake laughter. He turns to look into the all-knowing gaze of Castiel, and his defense crumbles.

"Besides the fact that I almost got you killed…"

"Almost Dean, almost," Castiel points out, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder, right where Castiel's handprint used to be.

"I can't keep living with almost's Cas!" Dean shouts, frenzied with desperation, "one day you're gonna end up dead, and I'll be alone. It's always the same. Everyone I ever love always end up-"

Dean would say more, if it weren't for the angel pressing himself against the scantily clad hunter. Castiel's tongue is thrust into Dean's mouth, and Dean can only lose himself in the taste and touch of the one he loves. However, all too quickly, Castiel pulls away.

"You love me Dean, and I you. And that is all that matters."

"But… but what if I hurt you?"

"Hurting is all part of the human experience," Castiel explains, "but so is forgiveness. And I will forgive you until the end to time, Dean Winchester, because my love for you is eternal."

Dean doesn't know what to say, so he does what he does best: he acts. He initiates the kiss this time, and Castiel and Dean are swept into the passion of their embroiled love. They make their way from the bathroom and into Dean's room, where they consummate their new relationship.

And afterwards, when Dean is cuddling with Castiel under the covers, both will store this memory away; to use to remind them that there is something worth fighting for when the world gets too depressing.

That love is always worth fighting for.

**Please review or send your undying undulations of love and gratitude! Hope you enjoyed this story as I did writing it!**


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